Malfoys Don't Apologize
by Socrates7727
Summary: Two years after the war, Draco Malfoy is married and attending a Memorial Party hosted by George Weasley. Everyone seems to be confronting their pasts and their enemies, but surely Astoria can't expect him to do the same? And why are there Pygmy Puffs everywhere? Written for the International Wizarding School Championship FINALS!


AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! This is the final installment of the International Wizarding School Championship Finals! All of our team's stories are connected, so check out the comp and be sure to check out their stories!

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Our team of seven writers connected our stories with multiple things, including:

Event: Memorial Party at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes

Setting: Two years after the war, located in WWW, Diagon Alley, or neighboring shop

Theme: Confrontations between characters that would never normally speak civilly, or who would never address the past between them; inclusion of Pygmy Puffs, which are intuitive to their owner's mood and given away by George to party attendees

Additional: purple clothing of some kind is required for all attendees, mentions/signs of rain followed by a rainbow, same cover image, and a title starting with the letter 'M' in honor of Mahoutokoro!

Extra thank you to Tiggs (WhiteTiger91), Ninja (NinjaDevil2000), and Sophie (3cheersforidiots) for all their help planning, plotting, and betaing! Thanks to everyone in Mahoutokoro for an amazing team and an awesome season!

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Story Title: Malfoys Don't Apologize

School: Mahoutokoro

Year: Four

Theme: Pygmy Puffs - actual animal, also controversial/unexpected behavior

Main Prompt: [word] pretentious

Additional Prompts: [setting] Diagon Alley, [color] purple (including magenta)

Word Count: 3197

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At exactly 8.30am, Draco stood in front of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and scowled. He'd wanted to show up fashionably late-or not show up at all, honestly-but Astoria had demanded they be early, so here they were, exactly on time. They were working on this thing called 'compromise'.

"Stop pouting and go mingle, _sweetheart._" Astoria smiled as she said it, but he knew better than to underestimate her. She would get back at him if he refused, even if it took a few days for the damage to show itself.

"With whom, _darling_? I'm fairly certain the entire guestlist would prefer me dead."

She shushed him as she caught sight of Luna, though. He might as well have been a child on his mother's arm, being dragged through the crowd and forced into polite conversation. The shop was like blasting curse to his senses. Rows upon rows of absurdly colored boxes towered over him, but it was nothing compared to the smells. There were so many, and none of them were distinctly unpleasant-much like the people here, he couldn't help thinking-but, all at once, they were a nauseating, jumbled blend of things that did not go together.

The faces all blurred as Astoria dragged him through the aisles, and he was sure he'd greeted at least a hundred people by the time they were allowed to stop. He breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw _why_ they'd stopped.

"George! So good to see you!"

The redhead said something in reply, but Draco was far too focused on his clothing. An entire suit of magenta. Honestly, who had the confidence-or ignorance-to be seen in public wearing something like _that_? He shook his head, even when George gave him a polite little smile, and was fully prepared to drag Astoria out of the shop right then and there when he saw _them_. An entire basket full of tiny, wiggling puff balls. Of course there were bloody Pygmy Puffs! As if this party wasn't going to be insufferable already.

"Take your pick, guys, but make sure you keep a good hold on them! They have a habit of adventuring off on their own sometimes. Astoria, if I may, I recommend the hot pink one in the middle for you; she's the smartest one by far."

Beside him, Astoria beamed and reached for the little pink puff. She cradled it like a baby and cooed at it. Draco just shook his head.

"Don't even think about it, mister! George said everyone has to take one and that includes you."

For a split second, he considered running. There was no way, in the name of Salazar Slytherin, that he was taking possession of one of those obnoxious little chew toys. For starters, it was illegal to breed them, and the last thing he needed was more attention from the Ministry… Secondly, he did not have a great track record with living things-especially not magical ones like Pygmy Puffs or, Merlin forbid, Hippogriffs.

"Oh my… isn't she just the sweetest little thing you've ever seen, Drake?"

Astoria, bless her heart, was immune to logic or reason for the moment, so he didn't bother trying to argue. He was not, however, going to give in that easily. For lack of a better idea, he turned to one of the nearest shelves and began inspecting its contents.

"Honestly, a Bumbling Bismol? Who would ever want to sound like an idiot voluntarily? And what is a Rainbow Reaper?" Many of the creations sounded ridiculous at best and terrifying at worst. He tried not to imagine what a Porker Poker could possibly be used for or why there was a red-faced wizard on the box. There were so many free samples that he was sure it couldn't be a profitable business model. He kept going, insulting everything he could make a clever remark about and fingering some of the products that looked more tame, but he should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Astoria was glaring at him, even as he rambled.

"Take a puff, or I leave you stranded, Malfoy."

True, they were married and true, she was probably one of the only people who he trusted with his life but she knew him, for better or for worse. She was smart-which he loved more so when it wasn't being used against him-and she knew the position they were in. He hated social gatherings like this, and he had absolutely no friends here apart from the charmed stuffed animals on aisle three. She was his lifeline, and she would gladly force him to play aristocrat on his own if he didn't relent.

"Fine, but I'm not going to pick one."

Immediately, she was all smiles and lighthearted chatter again.

"No worries! Here, take this one. She looks like the angriest of the ones that are left and I know you like silver." The puff landed in his hands with an indignant little squeak. Draco couldn't exactly see its eyes, or find its face for that matter, but he got the impression that it was glaring at him. It was not silver-not even close-but the sickly, faded pink was as close to grey as the magenta little monsters got so he took the puff. He glared at it; Astoria elbowed him.

"It's cute! At least pretend not to hate it for a few minutes. Look, see? Even Longbottom and Severus are getting along! Well… sort of. The point is that it's a party, _darling_, and you have to play nice even if you don't _feel _nice."

Once again, she hooked her arm in his and tucked the little grey puff into his breast pocket before whirling him off into the crowd. He ignored almost everyone.

Though he knew he shouldn't try to overhear anything-Malfoys didn't eavesdrop, they simply listened when appropriate-he found his eyes wandering towards the edge of the room where Longbottom had cornered Severus. Sure enough, they seemed to at least be having a civil conversation. Strange, yet he dismissed it without much thought because Longbottom _was_ a bleeding heart Gryffindor deep down. Could they not go even one day without some kind of impulsive decision or emotional outburst?

"Well, look who it is, Drake! It's wonderful _Potter _with his _scar _and his _broomstick _and his-"

"Thank you! I get the point. What do you want me to do? Kiss his boots?"

Astoria grinned and, just for a second, he saw the deviousness that she'd picked up from Pansy flit across her face. She knew that she'd trained him well.

"Oi! Harry!"

And then he was there, standing in front of them without a single hex on his lips or even a hand on his wand. Draco took a step back, watching as he hugged Astoria in greeting and then turned to him. Perfect Potter with his perfect friends and that rats' nest he called hair…

"Wear any more black and you'll look like a Death Eater, Malfoy."

Astoria's nails dug into his arm but he couldn't help it. Potter's voice curled in his gut like poison, even now.

"Wear any more magenta and you'll look like part of the damn rainbow."

Immediately, an elbow embedded itself in his side again and he winced.

"Draco! Be nice!"

Harry looked at her, then glanced between them, and Draco was sure a duel was about to break out but then they were… laughing? It didn't make any sense but they were laughing so hard their puffs were burrowing into their pockets just to keep from getting dropped. For _years_ they had gone through these motions and for _years_ Hermione had been there telling Potter and the Weasel to be civil-that he wasn't worth the detention. It was ridiculous but, for the first time in their entire lives, Draco was the one being chastised and it was just… hilarious.

"How very mature of you, Malfoy." But even as he said it, Potter was smiling.

Awkwardness rose like a fog between them and Draco had half a mind to escape while he could, but Astoria kept one hand cemented on his arm. She glanced between them like she couldn't decide if they were making progress or if she should be fleeing before the cursing started.

"Yours is shy. I could show you how I got Lil to warm up to me, if you want?"

He was going to say no. The word was there, curled on the tip of his tongue, because he didn't care if the little gloomy cloud in his pocket liked him or not, but Astoria shoved him towards the Gryffindor.

"Behave yourself, Malfoy!" And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

In an instant, Draco was floundering. He hated parties like this and he hated being surrounded by people that he knew for a fact would prefer him dead. Potter smiled, though, and motioned for him to move towards the door. Were they actually escaping?

"It was a bit cramped in there for my tastes. Do you mind if we talk out here?"

Draco shook his head, taking a moment to inhale the smell of rain and the chill in the air. The cobblestones were still slick with water and he briefly considered faking a bad fall and demanding Astoria take him home. For being so early in the morning, by his standards, there were a fair amount of people wandering about. Every now and then, a few would glance at the sky and dart into the nearest shop, as if they were expecting a downpour at the least opportune moment.

"Malfoy?" Potter's voice snapped him instantly back to the present. Talking-they were talking, right? Wait, talk? Since when were they going to talk?

"Talk about what?"

Potter motioned to the very obvious wiggling bulge in his breast pocket, and Draco let out the breath he'd been holding. At least this wasn't going to be some Gryffindor heart to heart. He'd seen Potter do that at least six times since the trials and he had no desire to be on the receiving end of that pity, or that awkwardness, and especially not in such a public place.

"You ran away before I could talk to you at the trial."

Apparently, Fate was not on his side. Though, when was it ever? In less than a second, all the air had been sucked out of Diagon Alley. There weren't many people within earshot of their conversation and it was still appropriately gloomy, in his opinion, but he wasn't about to start an argument with the Savior himself. The Savior, who apparently wanted to talk to him now…

"I wasn't exactly surrounded by friends in that courtroom."

Potter nodded, keeping his face towards the street, and didn't say a word. He looked almost disappointed, if Draco studied him long enough, and it didn't make any sense as to why. It wasn't like talking to a former Death Eater would be good for Potter's image. There had been enough cameras and reporters there that day to document the testimony and to run story after story of Potter's heroism-he hadn't needed anything from Draco. Glancing over at him now, though, it was clear that he was still unhappy about it, even years later. Guilt churned in his stomach. Internally, he cursed at Astoria and her 'emotional intelligence' training that she'd forced him through.

"I wasn't running from you, if that's what you think." Potter nodded again, but didn't seem convinced. "I didn't mean… I'm sorry. For that, and for everything else."

Instantly, Potter's head shot up and those green eyes locked onto his face, hunting for any sort of dishonest or joking expression.

"Malfoys don't apologize."

He was right, and Draco was trying desperately not to recite that phrase just out of sheer gut instinct. Potter was gawking at him like he'd grown a third limb. Somehow, the entire alley had emptied in those few precious seconds and they were completely alone. Draco swallowed hard, but didn't turn away from the Gryffindor's scrutiny. True, it was out of character for him to apologize, and to apologize to Potter of all people, but Draco didn't feel very anxious about it. The words came bubbling out of his mouth, and his mind didn't question it.

"No, Malfoys don't-but I do."

It took about ten seconds for that sentence to register in Potter's mind, and Draco watched the thoughts flicker across his face as he went through the different stages of denial and disbelief. He seemed to settle on acceptance, though. The Gryffindor-turned-Auror gave him a little nod, and Draco thought that was going to be the end of it, until a hand was offered to him. Potter's hand.

"I'd like to be friends, Draco." The first name rolled off his lips like shards of glass falling on a roof-sharp, and not quite right-but it was still the warmest tone Draco had ever heard the Chosen One use with him.

He took the hand, and they shook. Both of their palms were sweaty, though, and Draco didn't miss the distinct discoloration of Potter's puff, signalling the Gryffindor's anxiety.

"You don't want, or need, to be friends with people like me, Potter, but I appreciate the gesture."

Potter squeezed his hand a little harder, like a threat. "It's Harry, please. And I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

For a moment, they just stood there. They were eleven-years-old and they were shaking hands in front of the entire First Year class-Draco's face burned with humiliation at the memory. Not that he hadn't deserved it…

Po- _Harry_ broke first. His stoic expression quivered and the corners of his mouth picked up a bit, almost resembling a smile. Draco relaxed a bit, very aware that his hand was still in Harry's, but didn't pull away or reach for his wand. Shockingly enough, his own lips began to twist upwards. They were smiling…? And then they were laughing, just like before, because it was so ridiculous from the outside and anyone walking by would have called them insane but it made so much sense to them. They'd never been ones for awkward encounters-even if that meant duelling rather than having an uncomfortable conversation.

"I never said it, I know, but thank you for testifying."

Harry smiled and let go of his hand, but the air between them didn't disappear again. A bit of the street noise was coming back, actually, and Draco had to wonder if it had always been there or if he'd blocked it out with his anxiety. He took a deep breath. In fact, there seemed to be enough oxygen that they both could breathe normally again.

"Thank you for not identifying me, and for throwing me the wand."

For the first time that day, Draco let a genuine smile slip onto his face and he didn't try to hide it. It was weird, but the longer he did it, the more he liked it. As if on cue, the little dull pink stormcloud in his pocket perked up and stuck its head out to squeak at them, making a point of wriggling towards Harry's pocketed puff. Harry grinned at it.

"She's a lot like you. Did Astoria pick her?"

Draco nodded, letting a few of his fingers comb through the fluff near its face.

"Makes sense. She's the only one who would ever pick something so arrogant and moody. Look at her, practically demanding to be given a tux and a glass of champagne."

Draco did not know what champagne was, or why anyone would dream of trying to put clothes on a Pygmy Puff, but he just rolled his eyes. Even as Harry rolled his eyes back, he was smiling and reaching out to scratch beneath its chin-if it had a chin.

"Hey, at least Tori didn't marry a Weaselette."

They both smiled. Draco was about thirty seconds from asking if they could stay out there, away from the fuss, until the party had died down some, when a hand closed around his arm.

"I trust you're behaving yourself, _darling_?"

Harry laughed, even as Astoria pinned another piece of purple ribbon to his robes and patted his puff on the head. She and Harry exchanged knowing looks, which Draco pretended not to be bothered by, and the Golden Boy smiled.

"We were just having a conversation, Mrs. Malfoy." Astoria wrinkled her nose in disgust but, before she could demand to be called Astoria, a fourth guest appeared.

"I sure hope it was a _civil_ conversation, Mr. Potter." The Weaselette attached herself to Harry's arm, and stuck her tongue out at them, but Draco just rolled his eyes.

Astoria squeezed his hand, but he didn't stick his tongue out back. Maybe there was hope for the future? If he and Harry could get along, then anything was possible. The four puffs, divided between them, seemed more than eager to become close friends. Astoria would have called it a sign from the universe, but Draco shrugged it off as a coincidence.

"So glad you could make it, Astoria, but we should be getting back inside. George has got something planned, I think, and I'd hate to walk in halfway through and get transfigured or cursed somehow. It was nice to see you again, Tori," Ginny turned to him, frowning. "And Malfoy. Always a pleasure."

With that, the Weaselette dragged her husband back into the shop to join the throngs of people that were gathering. Harry turned over his shoulder, though, before they disappeared completely, and smiled. Draco raised his hand to wave, but they were gone. It was tiny-miniscule, even-but it was more than they'd ever had between them before and Draco was not going to complain.

"It went well then, I take it?" Astoria squeezed his hand again, but it wasn't a warning as much as a reassurance. Although she was a socialite, she was also his best friend. He covered her hand with his own and squeezed.

"Yeah, it did, surprisingly. It was rocky at first, but it worked out."

She was leading him back into the shop, which Draco greatly detested the mere idea of, but she was doing it slowly enough that he wasn't protesting. His mind was still on the conversation with Harry. The rain had stopped completely and the clouds were parting, which he vaguely heard Astoria comment on to someone in passing, but he barely noticed it. There could have been a triple rainbow, and he would have ignored it to continue running through what had just happened.

"You apologized, didn't you? I told you that would work! Swallow your damn pride for half a second and you might actually make some progress with these people! But you said-"

"I know what I said, Tori." He opened the door, pausing to make sure no attention was on them and to adjust to the smells again before continuing. "I know what I said and I know what you want me to say. You were right, okay? You were right, _sweetheart_."

She beamed at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, sunlight dancing across her face.

"I love you too, _darling_."

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Thank you so much for reading! As I said, go check out my teammates' awesome stories! Reviews are very much appreciated!


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